


The Brightest Witch of Her Age

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Comedy, Drabble, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-16
Updated: 2010-09-16
Packaged: 2018-10-26 12:53:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10787124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Hermione might be the brightest witch of her age, but she has no idea what her puzzling symptoms mean.





	The Brightest Witch of Her Age

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

“Hermione? Are you all right?”

Ginny stepped into her childhood room, carrying James. Hermione was sprawled on the bed. Her eyes opened at Ginny’s approach.

“I’m so tired,” she yawned. “I slept twelve hours last night, and woke up exhausted. I couldn’t resist taking a cat-nap before dinner.”

“Do you mind if I feed James?” Ginny asked, sliding a nursing apron over her head. 

“Not at all. What‘s that awful odor?”

Ginny quickly checked James’s nappy, but it was clean. She looked puzzled. “All I smell is Mum’s chicken casserole. She just took it out of the oven.”

Hermione made a face.

“I can‘t stand the thought of eating it,” she shuddered. 

“Hermione,” Ginny said slowly, “How long have you been feeling tired and sick?”

“About a week, I suppose,” Hermione admitted. “It’s probably a virus.”

“Maybe,” Ginny replied. “Is your period late?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t _know?”_

“I‘ve been so busy lately that I‘ve lost track of time. What does a late period have to do with how I'm feeling?” 

Ginny laughed so hard that James made a little sound of protest. 

“Sorry, sweetie,” she murmured. “Hermione, there’s a pocket calendar in the nappy bag. Let’s figure out when your last period was.”

Hermione found the current month and began counting.

“This is very strange,” she muttered, turning to the previous month.  Ginny waited patiently.

“Nearly seven weeks ago,” Hermione said at last. “I remember because it started on the same day as Professor McGonagall’s retirement party.”

“I’ll fix you a pregnancy confirmation potion as soon as James is finished,” Ginny chuckled. “But I think it’s safe to say that congratulations are in order.”

“I haven’t missed taking my contraceptive potion. Well, maybe once or twice. But I took a double dose the next day,” Hermione pointed out. “At least, I think I did.  Why do you keep a calendar in the nappy bag?”

“Because I’m counting the days, too,” Ginny smiled knowingly.

“I thought it was impossible for nursing mothers to become pregnant,” Hermione said in surprise.

“I need to set you straight on a few things,” Ginny sighed. “If you’ll put James down for his nap, I’ll go brew the potion.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

“I don’t see how this confirms pregnancy,” Hermione frowned, eyeing the steaming potion with distaste.

“Take it to the bathroom and find out,” Ginny directed. “If you’re pregnant, the color will change to blue.”

She crossed the room to check on James. A gulping sound caused her to turn around. 

“No, Hermione, you don’t _drink_ it!” she yelled.   

“How will I know if the color changes?” Hermione asked.  She suddenly turned pale and rushed from the room.  

Just minutes later, Ginny held Hermione’s hair back as she retched into the toilet. 

“For being the brightest witch of your age, you sure are thick," she muttered.

 


End file.
